In 2010, the duo of Alexis Krauss and Derek Miller released a groundbreaking album and, in turn, started a five-alarm fire that burned all other music that year to smoldering ash. That debut Treats paired their remarkable inspirations for both cheerleader shouts and power tools. It buried the VU meter so deep in the red, the overdriven distortion bled into your aching eardrums. Because of this, the “Sleigh Bells Sound” became so singularly badass that high-end producers nicked it without credit for their pop star projects. Their two subsequent albums in Reign of Terror and Bitter Rivals were solid facsimiles of Treats, but stepped away from those distinctive blown-out edges and in turn diluted Sleigh Bells’ distinctive face melting. A change was sorely needed for the band which came directly from the courageous lungs of Krauss herself. Jessica Rabbit features a practiced vocal performance delivered with a force that most radio artists can only dream about or auto-tune into reality.
The most noticeable change on Jessica Rabbit is that the default babydoll coo of Alexis Krauss has vanished, or rather been snuffed out. Instead of juxtaposing her come-hither lilt with metal-on-metal abrasion, the power structure have flipped with her as the designated alpha of the duo. This is most apparent on single “I Can Only Stare” where Krauss adopts her best diva turn, singing with a weighty resonance and style reserved solely for the mainstream. On songs like “Lightning Turns Sawdust Gold” and “Baptism By Fire”, the pop influence trickles into the mix, where sparks of synths move the heavy guitar riffs into the background. Even on bread-and-butter tracks like opener “It’s Just Us Now”, the power chords bump into, rather than counteracting with, her soaring voice. The soundclash works, but raises consideration. If conventional radio steals from Sleigh Bells and they borrow some in turn, does the line that separates them exist any longer?
Outside of the pop dalliances, the duo’s fourth album is a behemoth both in length and sound. All fourteen tracks in unison throw a wide net, courting pop music but also changing tempo, delivery, and dynamics that purposefully attack the sensibilities of the everyday listener. The wildest tracks in “Crucible” and “Throw Me Down The Stairs” are almost schizophrenic, led by automated beats that fluctuate seemingly on a whim. If that doesn’t send your expectations spinning, their standard cock-rock licks will certainly pop you on your chin and knock you on your ass. “Rule Number One” is a straight guilty pleasure, drenched in hair metal glory until the switch flips for an anthemic sing-along. Also littered throughout Jessica Rabbit are downtempo breathers that stretch the limits of the album’s possibilities. Songs like “Loyal For” and “I Know Not To Count On You” are curious but not purposeless, changing the overarching atmosphere in nebulous two-minute bites. There is a lot to digest on Jessica Rabbit, but the album is easily their most intriguing since Treats for its challenging nature and unpredictability.
